The speakers cracked with static.
"...and therefore, any non-allied movement through the 2nd floor stair—"
THWACK!
There was a loud smack followed by chaos.
"WHY THE HELL DID YOU HIT HIM?!" someone screamed through the speaker.
A new voice rang out, booming with energy and delight.
"This is my last war, dammit! I'm making it memorable!"
Suddenly, the speakers crackled back to life, louder than ever.
"GOOD MORNING, MY DEAR SCHOOL!"
A pause. Murmurs echoed across classrooms, corridors, bunk hideouts, and war rooms.
The voice continued with a sing-song joy:
"From now on, I'll be announcing every glorious, idiotic, and intense declaration of war. Oh! And forgive my late intro, though all seniors probably already recognized me by voice alone!"
"I am Yugansh Roy of Class 12-C, PRESIDENT of the Music Club, and your chaotic announcer for this final, beautiful war!"
Laughter erupted across blocks. Even the basement echoed with chuckles.
In the dim-lit corridor under Drawing Club's stronghold, Abhay narrowed his eyes.
"Who the hell is this guy?" he muttered.
Moments later, he arrived at the base of the Drawing Club staircase—a creative warzone barricaded with color and chaos.
Abhay knocked gently on a thermocol-covered door. A student poked out from a peephole made of sketch paper.
"Who goes there?"
"Abhay. Yoga Club said I'd be allowed through."
"Hold on."
From the adjacent Drawing Club room, a figure emerged, dressed in a color-splashed hoodie and wielding a brush like a sword.
It was Rishi, President of the Drawing Club.
"We got the call from Yoga," Rishi said with a nod. "You can pass."
The blockade shifted open with dramatic creaks—like a scene straight from a movie.
Along with Abhay, another student stepped out. His name tag read:
Rohit Dy – Class 11-C, Drawing Club Member.
He wore a bandana, carried a sketchbook like a clipboard, and had the intense focus of a detective.
"You coming with me?" Abhay asked.
Rohit nodded. "I've been assigned to locate Ujjwal's position—and Drawing Club needs access to the computer lab's CCTV archives. Two birds. One war."
And so, they moved.
Corridors stretched quiet and tense as the two made their way to the Computer Lab, avoiding patrol routes and known battle zones.
Inside the lab—dimly lit, with LEDs flickering in RGB glory—a figure sat spinning in a wheely chair, clearly waiting.
The Computer Club President.
"Yo, Abhay! Long time no see."
Abhay blinked. "This is literally the first time we're meeting."
"Yeah, yeah—try telling that to your Yoga Club seniors," the president replied, dramatically flipping an invisible cloak.
Abhay raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you all in the same class? Doesn't that mean you meet every morning?"
"Bro. You're ruining my dialogue."
With an exaggerated sigh, the president flicked a pendrive toward them.
Abhay caught it mid-air.
Rohit, curious, asked, "Where exactly are we supposed to plug this in?"
Before the President could answer, a nearby shelf buzzed, and a set of monitors and CPU towers floated from a storage wall, settling in front of Rohit like summoned tech familiars.
Within moments, live CCTV footage from across the boys' block streamed in 4K glory.
Rohit muttered, "This is... efficient."
"I know," the Computer Club President said proudly. "Innovation Club helped automate half our lab. We just throw drama and the systems respond."
Rohit got to work scanning camera feeds for Ujjwal's whereabouts.
Meanwhile, Abhay turned toward the door.
"Heading to the Innovation Lab now," he said.
Rohit nodded without looking away from the monitors. "I'll join back once I track him."
The two exchanged a brief fist bump, then parted.
Operation Basement Dominance was fully underway, with alliances forming, betrayals pending, and Abhay moving deeper into the tech core of the school's war machine.
Above, the loudspeaker came to life again:
"And that's the third battle of Corridor C settled! Aaaaand one lunchbox stolen in the chaos—whoever stole it, you're a monster."
Abhay sighed. "This war's going to be insane."
He wasn't wrong.